Butterscotch For Breakfast
An original children’s story ©1997 & 2017 Words by Patrick Macke, illustrations by my pal Johnee Bee (johneebeeshow.tumblr.com)
“Mom says going to school without socks is like having candy for breakfast…It’s just not something big boys do.
“I bet Mister Codworth’s kids don’t wear socks to school. Shoot, I bet they don’t go to school at all, just walk around the candy store barefoot all day…Bet they have licorice for dinner, jawbreakers for lunch and butterscotch taffy for breakfast.
“I wish my dad owned a candy store. I could work for him. Maybe I’d be manager of jelly beans or vice president of root beer barrels. Ya, my dad could pay me in gumballs…I’d give my friends free stuff.
“I wouldn’t even have to go to school at all. Candy could be my life!”
⬛
To hear his dad tell it, candy already was Scotty’s life, even though his dad didn’t own a candy store. Actually, Scotty’s dad, doctor Perry, was a dentist. He didn’t approve of Scotty eating so much candy. In fact, he didn’t even like the word candy. He called it an in-between-meal snack.
Scotty considered dinner an in-between-candy snack. He dreamed about candy. He spent his allowance on candy. He took back a soda bottle and invested the refund on candy. A nickel discovered under a sofa cushion was almost instantly converted to Necco wafers or some other chewy, sour, sugar-coated, crunchy, hard, jelly-centered, powdery, nutty, nougaty, caramel-filled, brightly colored or oddly shaped candy. Still, Scotty wondered why parents didn’t see the sheer genius of a Big Hunk or the beauty of a Milk Dud.
⬛
“Mom, I’m home! I wore my socks to school, I only took them off after school.”
“Wash your hands, your dad just walked in and it’s almost time for dinner.”
“What’s for dessert?”
“You know the rules, we don’t talk about dessert until we’ve cleaned our plates, but I did make jello squares this afternoon.”
Scotty didn’t see the point in jello. When you tried to chew it, it dodged your teeth and there was no crunch and it wasn’t cold enough to be ice cream…But it didn’t matter because he still had some licorice wedged in his pockets and various other hidden candy sources in his room.
As far as dinner was concerned, Scotty didn’t like much of anything in the non-sugar food groups, but he did love milk and there was usually bread or potatoes or something else he could push around his plate to give the appearance that he was eating his fair share. With especially gross meals, like meatloaf, Scotty would sneakily spit bites into a napkin, storing the meat in his pants for later disposal. Over the years good ol’ Buck, the family dog, would grow fat off of meatloaf, etc., the benefactor of many after-dinner pants purgings.
Striking up a conversation proved a helpful tactic to distract Scotty’s parents from his make-believe eating ritual.
“Dad, why can’t we buy a candy store?”
“A candy store? What do I know about candy other than it rots teeth, dislodges fillings and sticks to the bottom of your shoes?”
“Come on dad, I can teach you everything you need to know. I could work for you, you could pay me in gumballs or SweetTARTS, or…Or whatever you wanted.”
“Son, I’m a dentist. I can’t very well sell candy to my patients and then charge them to fill the cavities they get afterwards.”
“Well, you don’t have to be a dentist forever do you?”
Dad said, “Don’t you think dentists are important? We help people feel better and make sure that their teeth stay healthy.”
“Sure dad, but candy is important too. It helps people feel better, and, well, it helps make cavities so that dentists can have a job. Besides, everyone that comes out of your office always seems sad, but you’re always smiling when you leave the candy store.”
“How about some jello?” mom said quickly, trying to change the subject.
“Come on Scotty, stop all of this talk about candy and eat something healthy for a change,” said dad. “And I better not find any more candy in your room! You have a checkup next week and I’m getting a little tired of giving you free fillings. Grab a jello square and enough with all this candy stuff.”
Why would a dad want to be a dentist when he could work at a candy store, Scotty wondered. Pulling a box of Red Hots from his sock drawer, Scotty thinks about how a candy-store guy must surely make lots of money, and why would anyone go to the dentist if they didn’t have to? Scotty was sure when he got older he would still like the stool in the candy store better than that scary, tilted back chair at the dentist’s office, and as he slowly dozed off to sleep he imagined how cool it would be to be his dad’s age, an adult, making all the rules and eating Jujubes for dinner, Abba-Zabas for lunch and butterscotch discs for breakfast.
⬛
On Saturdays nearly all of the boys in the neighborhood, and even a few girls, would assemble on Scotty’s driveway. They’d be riding bikes, pulling wagons, skating boards, every now and then, someone would pull up on a unicycle, but Scotty could never figure out how a guy could stay upright on only one wheel.
The group would head off in different directions depending on the mood, up Baysinger Street to the park or down Buell Street to the school yard for a game of football or an afternoon of ditch. But every Saturday, as sure as Scotty would rip holes in the knee of his jeans, the gang would end up at the candy store. One by one, pockets would be emptied, and along with lint, Superballs and whatever else, the kids would find a few coins. Usually just pennies or nickels were discovered, but maybe after a strong day of neighborhood bottle collecting, some lucky kid would produce a dime, or, one time, even a quarter.
Sour balls, Pixie Stix, Razzles, candy cigarettes, wax lips, Boston Baked Beans, Fruit Cocktail, malt balls, Junior Mints, Hot Tamales…Every cent was spent on candy and the feeding frenzy didn’t stop until stomachs bulged. The way parents gorged themselves every Thanksgiving, that’s the way candy was gobbled in Scotty’s neighborhood every Saturday.
Needless to say, Doctor Perry knew most of these juvenile candy consumers quite well. More than one had spent a long afternoon with the drool cloth around his neck, experiencing first-hand the effects of confectionery excess. It was because of this reality—and his pending destiny with his dad’s chair—that Scotty was crunching hard candy and smacking chewing candy with extra gusto this Saturday.
⬛
As is typically the case with you’re eight years old, Saturday quickly became Monday and Scotty awoke with a strange, pulling tingle in his mouth. Had his commitment to candy caused an aching tooth? Did one too many sugary concoctions lead to a revolt by Scotty’s teeth? Was Scotty’s dad right? Again? Scotty thought all of these thoughts. He hoped for the best, but feared the worst, and his hands got clammy when he pondered his dental fate, now just a few short hours away.
Nature has a way of mirroring a young boy’s mood, so of course on this day it was raining. Instead of walking, his dad drove Scotty to school.
“Ready to have your teeth checked son?”
“I guess,” Scotty grumbled, “But one of my teeth already hurts, one of the ones in the back.”
Predictably, his dad replied, “Probably from all of that candy you eat, but don’t worry, we’ll take a look this afternoon.”
“Is it gonna hurt?” Scotty asked, already knowing the answer.
“It might hurt a little bit buddy, but it will hurt a lot more if we don’t get it taken care of,” said dad, rubbing Scotty’s head.
“Dad, I don’t want to be a dentist.”
“I know,” dad replied, not missing a beat, “You want to run a candy store, right?”
After pausing to think, Scotty said, “Ya, I thought I did. Does candy really hurt our teeth.”
“Well, too much sugar isn’t the best thing for you, but what really hurts our teeth is when we don’t take care of them…But, no, Scotty, candy isn’t really as bad as us dentists make it out to be.”
“Hey, Scotty, there’s the candy store” said dad as they slowly drove by.
“Ya, they don’t open this early dad,” said Scotty, having memorized the hours years ago. “Hey, there’s a sign in the window, it says…It says FOR SALE!”
“Well, whaddya know” said dad.
“Does that mean the candy store is going away?” said Scotty in a dejected tone.
“Not necessarily son, but I guess it’s a possibility. It’s nothing you need to worry about though,” dad said as he pulled up to the curb of Scotty’s school. “Here you are son, have a good day, your mom will pick you up. See you this afternoon.”
⬛
Most school days seem to drag on forever, but on those days when you have an afternoon dentist appointment, well, they just seem to fly by. Scotty was startled by the sound of the bell and was the last pupil to get up from his desk, and this was quite odd, because Scotty usually anticipated the ring that signalled the end of the school day and it was a fast kid indeed that could beat him to the door. Today, however, as if lead was in his shoes, Scotty’s steps were slow and methodical. By the time he reached the school yard, his mom was already out of the car and tapping her foot.
“Come on Scotty, you’ll be late for your appointment. You’re not your father’s only patient!”
Scotty got into the car without saying a word.
“So how was your day sweetheart?” his mom asked. “It’s nice to see you have socks on.”
“I don’t know,” Scotty mumbled.
“Whaddya mean you don’t know, weren’t you there? You’re not worried about your dentist appointment are you?” said mom, knowing all too well how much Scotty fretted about going, even if the dentist was his dad.
No response from Scotty.
“Don’t worry honey, it will be over before you know it, besides, your dad will take good care of you.”
On the trip from the car to his dad’s office, Scotty had the look of a prisoner walking to his last meal. Eight year olds have a way of magnifying the consequences of small events. Like all the rest of his dad’s patients, Scotty had to sit in the little room outside of where they kept all of the dentist’s chairs, and wait his turn.
Scotty hated the dental smelliness of the place, and he didn’t understand how the older people could just sit there and read magazines as if they were waiting for something fun. His hands were sweating and every time the lady in the white pants opened the door he flinched as she called out a name.
“Scotty Perry! SCOTTY PERRY!”
Scotty’s mom gave him a nudge. “Scotty, Scotty…It’s your turn. Go on honey, you’ll be fine”
Scotty snapped out of his trance and slowly, very slowly, ambled through the door into the sterile and slobbery and scary world beyond.
“Hey buddy, how’s it going?” said his dad, mussing Scotty’s hair. “Climb on up there, let’s take a look. Don’t worry, we’ll take it easy on ya.”
Scotty knew the drill. He closed his eyes, put his head back, opened wide and tried to think of something else. Even in this unlikely moment, Scotty’s mid jumped to candy, to how great it would be to have a candy store…To chew Bazooka for dinner, eat Jolly Ranchers for lunch and butterscotch Life Savers for breakfast.
⬛
Scotty emerged from the close encounter with his dad relatively unscathed, just a simple cavity. He took a nap as soon as he got home (another extremely strange occurrence on this day), but by the time his dad returned from work he was back to his old self.
Knowing that his next check-up was at least six months in the future, Scotty was feeling kinda happy all over, and maybe caught up in his I-survived-another-trip-to-the-dentist euphoria, he said to his dad, “Dad, ya know, going to the dentist isn’t really that bad, and you really do help people…My tooth doesn’t hurt anymore either.”
“So do you think you may want to be a dentist after all?” said dad.
“I don’t know dad. I still think the best part about visiting your office is when I’m leaving, but I do see now how much we need a dentist. I guess you’re a pretty important guy, huh, dad?”
“More important than the guy who owns the candy store?” dad replied.
“Well dad, if I had to choose between the dentist and candy, well, I think I’d still stick with candy. Can’t both be important?”
“Ya know Scotty, I think they are both important. We need our teeth forever, so a good dentist comes in handy, but things that are fun, that make you happy, like candy…They’re really important too.”
“Son, a big part of life is finding just the right balance between doing what you have to do and having fun.”
⬛
The following Saturday, like every other Saturday morning, the gang had gathered on Scotty’s driveway anticipating the day’s adventure.
“Wait up for me, I need to go somewhere real fast with my dad,” Scotty shouted out to his buddies as he ran around his dad’s car and got in.
“Where are we going dad?”
“You’ll see, I need to show you something.”
After a few short blocks, Scotty’s dad slowed down and stopped at a place that, as far as Scotty knew, his dad had never stopped before…Right smack dab in front of Codworth’s Candy Store.
“Dad what are we doing here?”
“Take a look,” his dad replied.
Scotty leaned out of the car window and stared into the store’s pig pane window, scanning up and down and left and right, until he saw those big four red letters…S-O-L-D.
“Oh dad, it says SOLD! They sold the candy store!” Scotty lamented in a heartbroken voice.
“So I see, “ said dad. “Let’s take a closer look.”
Scotty’s dad got out of the car and walked up to the store front. Scotty followed right behind and both father and son pressed their noses to the window. Scotty felt as if he was looking into the room of an old friend. He knew that the penny candy was always next to the Pez. He was saddened at the thought of his old candy friends leaving, moving to another town or maybe being sold to someone who might not understand the nature of this friendship.
Scotty’s dad was having thoughts of his own. He envisioned his own childhood, thought back to when he wasn’t much older than Scotty. He remembers his dad buying him peppermint sticks and black licorice at a store not so unlike Codworth’s. He remembers saving his money for a pack of football cards, which they also sold at the candy store, and he remembers how fun it was, how carefree times were, when choosing a candy bar was the toughest decision in life. He turned away from the store, walked a step or two and sat down on the curb. Scotty followed.
“Dad, isn’t it terrible? They sold the candy store.”
As if he didn’t hear Scotty, his dad began to take off his shoes. He then pulled off his socks and proceeded to put his shoes back on.
“What are you doing dad?” asked Scotty, completely confused.
“Nothin, I just feel like wearing my shoes with no socks.”
Naturally, Scotty, a lifelong advocate of a sock-less society, followed his dad’s example.
“Dad, didn’t you hear me? What are we going to do, they sold the candy store?”
Then Scotty’s dad puts his arm around Scotty, pulls him close and says, “I know son…I bought it.”
Scotty sat stunned, astonished…afraid to believe it was true.
“No way dad! What about being a dentist and selling sugar and then having to fix cavities and that sugar high you always say I’m on, and …”
“Well, Scotty, I just started thinking that fixing teeth is good and candy is good, and, well, we better make sure people can always have both…
“…and every so often you need Skittles for dinner, Atomic Fireballs for lunch and…”
“I know, I know dad! And butterscotch for breakfast!”